They were near the southern valley.
With a point in their direction and a wave over-head toward the higher ground, Pyetar signaled for the rear to provide cover. Iryana followed Vaneshta and the two other archers around the rest of the group and up what turned out to be a small cliff overlooking a valley.
Iryana and the others crouched in the trees at the cliff’s edge while Vaneshta crawled out to look over the valley. When Vaneshta gestured for them to come forward, nerves tightened Iryana’s muscles.
The valley spread out before her like a vast green basin cradled by dark, pine-covered ridges. The hint of a slender river shimmered between clusters of birch and alder trees. Wildflowers painted the slopes with streaks of yellows and purples, and beyond the faint whoosh of wind through the trees, the valley was quiet.
Looking down between the trees was not unlike being in the watchtower at the Dovaki Post. Except she was not alone, and she wasn’t just looking for dakii.
They watched Pyetar and another scout move into the valley where the trees were less dense, and while it provided Iryana good visibility of their soldiers, it meant the dakii would see them more easily too.
The archer to Iryana’s left pointed toward a group of trees a few hundred paces away from where Pyetar and the scout were quickly moving between the trees, metal-forged weapons already formed and ready.
Iryana sucked in a breath and watched them closely, arrow nocked and ready to fire if the others were noticed.
It felt like ages before Pyetar was slipping back through the trees alone. The rest of the soldiers on the mission followed Pyetar into the valley, only ten paces apart.
Her breath felt tight in her throat.
Eventually, it was their turn to follow. The forest was quiet, and Iryana watched the space between the trees in the direction she knew the dakii waited. Knowing they were there and not being able to see them was nerve-wracking. Her bow was half drawn like the archer’s. Vaneshta and the others had their forged weapons formed, leading slightly ahead.
Iryana was scanning the rear when the silence was disturbed by a growl.
“Dakii.”
There were only three visible, having snuck closer without them noticing, but those in the trees would hear a fight.
Vaneshta signaled for Iryana to follow her, and they rushed past the others. With an impressively smooth transition, Vaneshta pulled her magic back in and once again wielded her bow.
They held their ground and began firing at the beasts. With the dakii distracted, the others disengaged and rushed further ahead under the cover they provided. But the distraction didn’t last as long as they needed it to. The dakii tore through the trees toward Iryana and Vaneshta, every snapping branch and quake through the ground sending shivers up Iryana’s back.
“Cover me,” Vaneshta ordered as she switched back to her spear, rushing toward the charging dakii as it formed mid-swing.
Iryana’s heart was beating so fast she could hardly hear, but she let loose arrow after arrow. What if she failed? What if Vaneshta was ripped apart and it was all her fault?
But then the other group started firing, and Vaneshta was leading Iryana to fall back. It was maddening, the constant switching, but they kept moving.
Eventually the dakii stopped following, slinking back through the trees in a way that made Iryana nervous. It wasn’t the first time she’d heard soldiers talking about the dakii retreating, but it used to be unheard of. Any change in the pattern, even a good one, was unnerving.
Iryana looked over to where Vaneshta was walking quickly beside her, wisps of hair flying wildly around her square face. They were both out of breath, but Iryana felt light.
They had done it. The formations worked.
The urge to celebrate, to tell Vaneshta how well they had done, almost sent the words spilling out of her mouth. But she had to draw the line somewhere, for her own sake as well. Vaneshta wasn’t family—none of them were. It didn’t matter what they thought of her. Iryana just needed to remember why she was there.
As they slipped through the valley toward the rest of the group, Iryana was still smiling slightly when she was stopped in her tracks. It was like a great pine had fallen right on top of her.
In the clearing before them was a vast field of flowers. Black flowers with delicate, paper-thin leaves.
The Beast’s Poppy.
All she felt was horror. It slammed down her throat and grabbed her stomach in its fist. Sent her knees trembling and chills over her sweaty skin. Was this where the brigade was getting all the poppies from? Their source? She knew she should look away, that others could be watching, but she just stared and stared and stared.
Death. It was death spread before her. Her own torment.
She wasn’t sure how long she stood frozen, but eventually a touch pulled her out of it.
“Come on,” Vaneshta whispered, lightly pulling on Iryana’s shoulder.
